Deductive Reasoning
by lovebug21
Summary: When a case leads the lead investigator of the Miami Crime Lab to London, he finds himself face-to-face with an intimidating and intriguing man...


"Deductive Reasoning"

Rating: T (to be safe)

Crossover: CSIMxSherlock: Horatio C. x Mycroft H.

Genre: Crime, Drama, Friendship

Copyright: Not my characters. Story- spur-of-the-moment idea. Original crossover idea that just occurred to me as I was walking into my room.

Short Description: When a case leads the lead investigator of the Miami Crime Lab to London, he finds himself face-to-face with an intimidating and intriguing man...

He had never before been to London. The smog and chill in the air drafts flowing through the airport burned against the bit of exposed skin. London was definitely not Miami. If only the case had not led him here, he thought, then he would have a greater influence on the outcome. His trust in his team was great- enough so that he would and has put his life in their hands- but few of them had traveled like he had. In addition the his worries of travelling mercies, the high profile of the recent murder led him to be the only one entrusted with and qualified for the case (and all of its 'intricacies').

CSI lieutenant Horatio Caine paused at the passengers' exit of the airport. His sharp, blue eyes perused the crowds. Men, women, and children hustled to and fro; their reasons not quite clear to him. To his left, he could see an elder man begging; to his right, a woman cried… The noise was beginning to cause an ache in his skull… He had to find-

"You are Lieutenant Caine." The voice, smooth but strong, mercifully attracted his attention.

Reigning in his ability to focus, the other replied, "I am. You're Mr. Holmes, I presume." His tone was neither questioning nor implying, he was merely a stating fact.

Holmes, with a cold calculating stare, waited for the man to continue. The lieutenant allowed himself an extra five seconds to look over the politician- _pressed suit, crinkled from sitting, definitely desk work_- before him.

_Weight: 190 to 210 pounds, give or take, possibly from sweet tooth. Height: six foot… two? Not quite. Age: late forties, could pass as fifties, but his posture, although partially forced, suggests a younger an. Hair, brunette with red highlights- attractive and used to the advantage- that only show when light reflects from 55 degree angle or less- has to shine through the hair- slightly thinning- stress, and suit, why an umbrella? Definitely a politician- and yet, still well tamed. No attempt to hid the thinning; self-secure but not confident. Why? To be acquired… Impeccably dressed- respectful and wealthy- yet modest for a many of money… Voice, mid-timber. Began as a mediator amongst the minor class of politicians, minions- disgusting- but he was unique. Quick ascension- age and posture, not correlating, yet Americans do differ. Powerful… Why? ..._

"You know why I'm here. I will cooperate fully, but this is as much my jurisdiction as it is yours. All the information you need was sent before my arrival. I am here to arrest my suspect." Piercing icy eyes dare for retaliation.

Mr. Holmes' slight smirk almost gave the other man a chill if not for the amused, and admiring, glint barely hidden behind the steel stare. "There is no mention of an impending arrest."

_Shit_. "My team contacted me with-"

"No, Mr. Caine. They haven't." The silence between the men was almost too uncomfortable for the redhead to bear. Mr. Holmes appeared to sense- _read_- this discomfort and continued. "Come with me, Mr. Caine. We have much to discuss."

Just as the politician and the lieutenant exited the airport, a black BMW approached the loading area. Those around them seemed to show no interest in the black, tinted car as the two men got in. The unfamiliarity of the city, the car, and the man sitting across from him created a feeling of tense wariness to build in the lieutenant's muscles. His mind almost instantly devised escape scenarios in case of threat as the younger man prepared two drinks. The younger man's motions were surreal to the jet-lagged man.

"If you do not calm then something will go wrong." The redhead refocused on the politician with a look on surprise in his eyes. "Your body language," the other man said. "Here," he offered the weary man a drink. "Scotch, although you are of Iris-German descent. You inherited much of the Irish, thus the red hair and pale freckled skin. Brother must have had more German." Quickly, the politician closed his mouth, preventing himself from saying more.

Intrigued- and no longer tense- the lieutenant leaned forward and accepted the liquor. His crystal blue eyes considered the man before him. _Intelligent. Beyond the norms of even the accepted definition of genius. Deductive. Immediately recognizable in the eyes and stare. Emotions? Well hidden, but there. Not sociopathic- an awful diagnosis- but not outwardly expressive. Family? Yes. Sister? No. Brother. Why? Not enough evidence but, a feeling?-_

"Would you like to share your observations, Lieutenant Caine?" The man was, uncharacteristically, openly smiling.

"I don't have the necessary evidence to arrest the man I have come for," he watched as the excitement of a game left the politician's eyes, "but I do know it was him."

"You know?" The Homes' eyes narrowed. "Prove it."

Eyes downcast, the redhead pondered his next words, looking almost as a child scorned. "Give me time."

A silence, though not uncomfortable, fell over the vehicle. Minutes passed before either man made to move or speak.

The first extended his hand, "Mycroft Holmes… Refer to me as 'Mycroft.' It is… less grating."

Respectfully in reply, "Lieutenant Horatio Caine. 'Horatio,' preferably. Formalities are… unnecessary."

"Wearying."

"Yes, very."

In comfort, the men rode in the unsuspecting vehicle through the heavy Londoner traffic. The honks of angry drivers and fumes from polluting cars were like a cacophonous song to the redhead's ears. Welcome to- _it's much like New York_- London…

While the two men rode, a distant onlooker pondered the new situation…

"This," his songlike voice began, "is going to be interesting.

TBC/End(?)

I have never written a Sherlock fiction before. I am attempting to follow speaking patterns… Are they, too, out of character? Then, there is the question of "do I continue or not". If you don't mind, let me know. I'd like some feedback. Thank you!


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